When I was a child a trip to the dinosaurs at Manchester Museum was a treat, a bribe, a reward for good behaviour.
I loved the whole museum.
The way it felt, smelt, the grandiose staircases, the wood panelled halls, the Egyptian mummies and sarcophagi and statues, the echo of my footsteps and the crocodiles.
But it was Tyrannosaurus Rex and the Triceratops horn and the elephant I was convinced was a Mammoth (wouldn't hear anything else) and the ammonites, plesiosaurs and strange, twisted rocks that held my fascination and wonder.
The way it felt, smelt, the grandiose staircases, the wood panelled halls, the Egyptian mummies and sarcophagi and statues, the echo of my footsteps and the crocodiles.
But it was Tyrannosaurus Rex and the Triceratops horn and the elephant I was convinced was a Mammoth (wouldn't hear anything else) and the ammonites, plesiosaurs and strange, twisted rocks that held my fascination and wonder.
And they still do.
Only, as an adult, I can go when I chose, walk the echoing halls and stand before the cabinets knowing no one is going to ask me questions or want a report.
That, is the freedom of adulthood.
It still feels like a treat though. Still feels like I have done something good that deserves a reward.
Only now I stand before T Rex alone and I am no longer scared.
I need to introduce Toby to this place.
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